The Impossible Icosahedron
by starspangledpumpkin
Summary: Hermione Granger has had it with Divination and decides a magic 8 ball would make better predictions. Does it?


**This AU fic is for the Houses Competition. I'd like to give my mom credit for coming up with the idea.**

 **Disclaimer: Hermione may not believe in fortune-telling, but I do.**

—

Hermione Granger had had it up to the top of her mass of curly, brown hair with divination. The class was completely useless and totally pointless.

Her roommates, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, were enamored with the "art" of Divination. They took extra time out of their day to go to Professor Trelawney's office, which smelled strongly of incense and sherry, and then come down with the superior air that they knew more than anyone else.

It drove Hermione mad because _she_ was supposed to be the one who knew everything. And what she didn't know, she researched.

It was a class she completely regretted taking in the first place and she knew her friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, regretted taking it as well.

However, unlike them, she had other classes she could focus on. Ones that had more foundation and logic. Arithmancy was a form of future telling, but it wasn't nonsensical, it's numerology. It was _Statistics_. Not aimless guessing and speculation that caused unnecessary anxiety and self-fulfilling prophecies.

Seriously, claiming you saw yourself going down to a Christmas Feast in your crystal ball and then decided it must be so? She could have just said she wanted to go.

Those little balls of crystal were pretty, but utterly useless for anything except a paperweight. Jiminy Cricket, a Magic-8 ball could…

Oh…

Oh, no…

Now there was an idea.

If all she was going to do was make wild guesses, she might as well take wild guesses from a _toy_. It would prove once and for all that Divination wasn't good enough for a real class and was completely outmoded.

At the very least, it'd be good for a laugh. She needed a little laughter in her life. If anything, the constant use of her time-turner was driving her a bit mad. She had to use two watches, so she could keep track of the time. One to always wear on her wrist and another to take off before she turned back and put it on when she returned to the spot later. Convoluted, but effective.

Hermione wrote to her parents asking for two magic-8 balls, claiming that it was for fun. They did as she asked and sent her a little care-package with no-sugar-added treats and some homemade zucchini brownies, which made her a little homesick.

One afternoon, she went looking around for a place where she could make her new toys in peace. It was a little difficult to find one secluded enough.

On the seventh floor, she went around a few times trying various rooms on the East Wing, West Wing, and Towers. At one point, she saw a door that she was certain wasn't there before. When she opened it, she was gobsmacked at what she found.

It was a large room that had blocks of wood, crystal balls of various sizes, empty jars, jars filled with liquid, and books on crystal ball crafting, wood carving with magic, and a workbench. How had she not noticed this room before? It was exactly what she needed!

Hermione grinned, sat down on the bench, and got to work.

First, she cracked open one of the magic 8 balls to see what it contained. An alcoholic blue dye, some screws and a massive, twenty-sided die. Washing the dye off the die, she wrote down all of the possible responses. Ten affirmative, five negative, and five noncommittal to yes and no questions. These particular answers would only take her so far.

She needed a second one. So, she wrote out a list of insane predictions, some vague enough to be true and others so ridiculous they couldn't possibly come true.

It took several hours and a lot of arithmancy, but she finally got an icosahedron with numbers carved on it and embedded it into a crystal ball. She figured it would look odd for her to shake a prediction out of a crystal ball, but it was the only way she could get a visible number and only at her angle so when Professor Trelawney's buggy eyes peered into the ball, she would only see fog.

Next Wednesday, she had her crystal ball in her bag. She could switch it out easily. She kept the second, basic magic 8 ball in her robes pocket. For once, she was actually excited for this class.

Since Ron was mad at her for Scabbers and Harry stuck with the person who was his first friend and roommate, Hermione sat with Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas.

Professor Trelawney made her rounds and Dean and Neville tried making predictions.

"And… what do you see this week, Miss Granger?" Professor Trelawney asked. "Perhaps more fog?"

Lavender and Parvati giggled. Hermione picked up the crystal ball and shook it hard. She peered into the fog and saw the number 17. She memorized all twenty options before coming to class and kept her cheat sheet in her school bag.

"Bring an extra pair of socks next Wednesday," she recited.

Professor Trelawney, and the rest of the class, gawked at her.

"And… are you sure about this prediction?" the insect-like woman asked.

Hermione removed the magic 8 ball from her pocket and shook it, looking into the bottom.

"Most definitely," she said.

Dean coughed and, for once, Professor Trelawney looked skeptical of the prediction.

"What was that all about?" Parvati asked her that night in their dorm. "In class today, I mean."

"No idea what you mean," said Hermione. "Good night."

Next Wednesday, it was a sunny morning and Hermione was ready to make her next prediction. As class settled down, Professor Trelawney singled Hermione, Neville, and Dean out.

"Were extra socks needed?" she asked.

Neville slowly raised his hand. "Some water got in my shoe… Glad I had a change of socks or my feet would still be wet!"

Hermione blinked in surprise then shrugged it off. A coincidence. Professor Trelawney clicked her tongue and class began. Soon enough, she wandered over to the skeptical Gryffindor.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione shook the ball hard and looked inside.

"Look out."

"For what?" Neville asked anxiously.

"Look out," Hermione repeated, neutrally.

A moment later, a Quaffle soared in through the window, missing Dean's head by mere centimeters. The Quaffle crashed into some of the china used for tea predictions. Hermione stared at it in greater shock than her classmates. Two in a row… no, it had to be a coincidence.

Professor Trelawney picked up the red ball and went back to the window to see who threw it but seemed to find no one.

"It appears Miss Granger was right, again."

Oh well… they were incredibly simple predictions. It was a coincidence, and nothing could convince Hermione otherwise. She would just have to see what became of Monday, since class was held twice a week.

Monday, Hermione did her usual. She shook her crystal ball and found the number. Number twelve today was perfect.

"The day you have pudding for breakfast will be a fantastic day, but beware excess," she said.

"Sounds like it," said Dean. "Why don't you take this one Neville?"

"Well… alright," the timid boy replied, "but me luck's pretty bad."

There was no way Hermione could be right about this. Pudding for breakfast was just unnatural. Even so, the next morning, Neville ate a slice of custard tart. At first, it seemed like an ordinary day full of accidents, but… they never happened. Neville did, in fact, have a fantastic day. His potion came out acceptable with no issues, nobody picked on him, and apparently when he went for a walk by the lake, he found an exceedingly rare plant which was now under the care of Professor Sprout.

So… her being right three times in a row was now a pattern. It still didn't make Divination any less rubbish! She was still making wild guesses! Luckily, she'd counted on that and came up with stuff that was ridiculous beyond belief.

Next class, she was invited to sit next to Parvati and Lavender. This gave her some pause. She was worried they'd start dragging her along to their private study sessions.

This time, everyone leaned in eagerly awaiting what prediction she was going to make today. So, she made her swap while they were sitting down, hiding the real crystal ball under the table.

Hermione picked up the ball and shook it hard, then looked inside the tiny window.

13

"Ooh," said Hermione, donning a borderline sarcastic mystical voice. "Lavender, I see something incredibly interesting in your future."

"Tell me!" the girl squealed.

Hermione stared intently into the fog.

"I see… a boy."

Lavender gasped. "Tell me about him!"

"Hm…" Hermione pretended she was summoning the vision when in reality she was trying not to laugh. "I see… a boy… with blonde hair… he's tall…" When Lavender and Parvati began giggling, she held up a finger. "His eyebrows are two different colors. He will be missing a shoe… and his robes will be inside out. When he asks you questions — no matter what — say 'yes'."

The class broke into giggles.

"You're pulling my leg," said Lavender, crossing her arms.

"Are you saying what I'm seeing in the crystal ball is fraudulent?" she asked, feigning offense. "I'm seeing what I'm seeing, Lavender."

"Professor Trelawney?" Parvati called.

Professor Trelawney peered into the crystal ball, twisting her fingers anxiously.

"I do not see what Miss Granger sees," she replied. "But that does not make it less true."

Lavender's mystery man did not show up and Hermione continued with her "Sight". Since her first three were right, everyone in class wanted her to make a prediction for them.

"You have a secret. Don't be afraid to reveal it. You might be surprised." (Dean).

"Next Wednesday you will need an umbrella." (Hannah Abbott).

"When it comes down to it, pick the blue one." (Parvati)

And then… something strange happened.

"I see a dark-haired man creating obstacles between you and your goals," she predicted for Harry.

The group left class, chattering as they always did.

"Guess your predictions ran out," said Pansy Parkinson snidely.

And then, the oddest sight came down the hallway. A boy approached the group. His blond hair was fluffed up messily; one eyebrow was pink, the other was green; one shoe was missing revealing a purple paisley sock, and his robes were obviously inside out judging by the yellow lining. He approached Lavender, his hands shaking with nervousness.

"Hi," he said. "Lavender, right?"

"Er— yes."

"I'm Kyle," he said. "I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me to Hogsmeade next weekend."

"I— uh—" she sighed through her nose. "Yes."

"Great!" he said cheerfully. "See you there."

"I'd better get my umbrella," said Hannah. "See you in class!"

Hermione was gobsmacked. How did… how was she right? She made that up a month ago! There's no way she could be right! It was nonsense! She was trying to prove that you couldn't guess just anything and have it come true!

Well… there was no way Hannah would need an umbrella. It was a beautiful day without a single cloud in the sky.

On their way to lunch from Transfiguration, the sky was still sunny. Hermione felt a drop of water on her head. Perplexed, she looked up at the stone ceiling of the corridor. Perhaps it was an issue with the pipes. Yes, they must still be messed up from the Basilisk.

Another few drops fell and she wiped them away to realize it was… sticky.

"Ew!" Parvati squeaked as a couple drops fell on her head.

Hannah quickly opened her umbrella and not a second too soon. Pink clouds appeared on the ceiling and began raining down… PUMPKIN JUICE?!

The students rushed out of the corridor. Luckily, the clouds didn't follow, but everyone was now staring at Hermione in shock and awe.

"Was this you?" Ron asked.

"Of course not!" she retorted. "I wasn't even touching my wand!"

That weekend, they would find out how Lavender's date turned out with Kyle from Hufflepuff. She was grumbling under her breath and shooting Hermione glares about the whole thing until she was approached by Kyle. When he wasn't messed up he was… dreamy. His blond hair was cutely curly, he was tall and built like a Quidditch player, and he looked really handsome in a light blue sweater and slacks.

"Hey, Lavender," he said. "I'm really glad you agreed. I was worried with my… appearance last week… you wouldn't say yes, but my friend Cedric, he's a year above me, made me promise to ask you out the next time I saw you. No matter what."

"Uh-huh…" Lavender was still gaping. She shook her head and smiled. "Well, of course! You showed so much confidence, how could I say no?"

How the hell did this turn out the way it did?! Hermione was absolutely flabbergasted. Lavender couldn't stop thanking her after that day and, as she feared, she was being recruited to be part of their lunchtime exploits to the Divination Tower. Which meant going back in time _more_ often so she could get her things done. She hated this.

For the first time in her life, Hermione hated being right. She didn't want to be right anymore!

She finally lost it around Easter.

"Hey, Hermione!" said Seamus Finnegan. "Remember when you said my lucky numbers were 3, 7, 17, 43, and 67?"

"Yeah?" she said tentatively.

"Well, Mam entered the Lottery when she went into work, I told her all about your predictions and so she filled in those numbers and SHE WON!"

"Well, Miss Granger," said Professor Trelawney. "When I first saw you, I didn't believe you had the mind for Divination. That you would try to apply your book knowledge where book knowledge would not help. Now, I see I was wrong. Miss Granger, it would be an honor to have you be my apprentice! I will teach you beyond crystal gazing, you will be one of the best Seers the world has known."

It was like a taut line snapped in the middle of her brain. Hermione screamed, smashed her homemade crystal ball and scrambled out of the room as fast as she could.

"Wow…" Lavender whispered. "When Professor Trelawney said we would lose one of our own near Easter… I never thought it would be Hermione."

As Hermione sped out of the Divination Tower, she passed two redheads, but didn't stop to talk to them or even acknowledge them.

"Well, brother of mine, it seems we broke Hermione Granger," said George.

"Eh, she'll get over it," said Fred, digging a copy of a list of predictions out of his pocket. "I just wish we could've found a way to make other ones come true. Though… the lucky numbers… not even we could pull _that_ off."

"Not with that attitude," George teased. "We would have found a way."

"That we would have."

The two brothers hi-fived and strolled off to find a new victim for pranks.


End file.
